Do we rise on a tree gnawing at its tusk?
Or we fall in the ocean floating on the bed?
Do we blossom on weak stems with the flow of dusk?
Or we wilt from tire of the road ahead?
Do we silt into bricks in that envious skyscraper?
Or we fade into fog leaving another lost lover?
Do we fly onto walls, staring at grief?
Or we land into bars to get some relief?
Do we refresh ourselves and come back?
Or we get removed from the unfortunate pack?